Mistakes are a part of life. Everyone makes them, at all stages of life. Mistakes are how we learn and grow and evolve. Mistakes can spur us on to making changes to how we conduct certain activities, and if you’re open to accepting and learning from your mistakes, they can and will make you better at what you do.
All of this I accept and tell myself with great fervor.
You see, I made a mistake at work today. One which, once I was made aware of it, I immediately put energy into making right. The thing about me, though (and many of you probably; if you’ve found your way to my blog on any sort of regular occurrence, it’s likely we share some similar traits), is that while I accept and am generally ok with making mistakes, and let go of this one after the barest of a passing moment of self-chastising, my brain is not yet done with this mistake. In fact, I am already anticipating a 2:30 am wake-up chat between my brain and my panic center.
I’ve come to anticipate, if not quite accept, that there are recesses within the corners of my mind which hold on with a fierceness (that I can appreciate) to events long past taken place, events often singled-out with no apparent rhyme or reason. I see no such purpose to such a death-grip on my past mistakes, some of which were tangled up with a choice and an action. I am not upset about this at the moment (but if you check in with me at my imminent midnight wake up, we’ll see if I still hold the same calm clarity), but rather hold all this in a light curious grasp.
But I know myself well, and so I will keep a tumbler of whiskey by my bed side should I wake up in a panic thinking about this not-so-serious mistake, and when I wake up again in the morning, I will give myself a loving hug as I get ready to embrace the day.
I live, I learn, I mistake, I adapt.